


Fashionista AU

by Sauou



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Fashion AU, Fashionista AU, M/M, OT4, h2ovancatoonz - Freeform, h2ovancattoonz, stage fright, the guys being talented dorks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauou/pseuds/Sauou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They work in the fashion industry. Vanoss is the manager, Delirious is the model, Wildcat is their fashion designer and Cartoonz is their makeup specialist.</p><p>[Wildcat is fast with his needle and thread, and he’s taken to the habit of sticking things into his own clothes.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The very first time Delirious finds the writing hidden in his clothes he thinks he’s going mad. 

It’s after five in the afternoon, and he didn’t sleep at all last night, tossing and turning so much that he had to get up and walk around in the hallway outside their apartment so he wouldn’t wake the others because he _just couldn’t sleep_. He’s so tired he’s nearly swaying on his feet, what if he falls, what if he trips, what he does something wrong and it messes everything up and Wildcat’s designs are ruined and he’s laughed off the stage, _what if?_

All around him are tall, beautiful skinny models, he’s the shortest of the bunch and he pokes a soft lump of belly fat miserably, he’ll never be like them.

This day has been going on forever, nothing seems to end his head is pounding _pounding_ a rhythm so hard there must be drums inside him and he steps up behind the curtain, nervous to all hell and tugging at his shirt sleeves when he sees it–

Soft. Tiny, barely there writing etched, stitched just under the hem you wouldn’t be able to see it unless you were actively looking for it, _unless you were wearing it_.

But he’s dead certain there was nothing there before he walked backstage and he’d been wearing this outfit for a solid hour now, so how in the hell did Wildcat manage to find the time, _the chance_ , to leave a little line of love and encouragement in the one place at the one time Delirious needed it most?

_“Relax man. You got this. You’re gonna do fine. Now hurry up and knock’em dead so you can chill with us in the break room and have some of Cartoonz’s horrible cookies.”_

His heart steadies and he smiles, standing up straight and ready to go onstage.

He’s got this. _  
_

.

Cartoonz teases Wildcat and says he must have been a ninja in a past life, he’s so swift and sneaky about at leaving his hidden messages that one moment you _know_ there’s no writing anywhere on you, everything is normal and fine.

And then you’re standing in line at the grocery store, pulling the cash out of your wallet to pay your bill when you realize that the cashier is staring at you in an awfully pointed way and you look behind you but nobody’s doing anything out of the ordinary and then, _all of a sudden it clicks_ –

And he turns his head sharply to examine his clothes but he doesn’t have to look far because in neon pink thread all across his chest is writing large enough for NASA to examine from space.

Telling Cartoonz to “ _pick up the good condoms this time! And not that cheap dollar-store shit, I don’t care how much money you think you’re saving, I’m not having some broken-ass piece of plastic when I could be getting fire-and-ice and if you come home without it I’m kicking you out.”_

Cartoonz has no modesty, he rips the shirt right off in the middle of the store (and gets yelled at by the manager who is conveniently standing just two registers down and he is almost banned from the supermarket for his “antics”).

He’s fuming and blushing all the way on the drive home, but two stoplights down he finally decides to put his shirt back on, neon pink writing be damned, and the traffic is at a standstill again, it’s almost rush hour already, when he sees the rest.

In barely-there soft gray against the white of cotton, just as he’s about to slip the t-shirt over his head, his arms are through both holes and there it is, all along the neck-line, and so easy to miss.

“ _Be careful out there. I don’t care how much you love that thing, motorcycles are dangerous in big cities and I don’t want to lose you.”_

And Cartoonz knows Wildcat. He knows what’s laying beneath his words. ‘ _I’m sure you were probably embarrassed but it’s all in good fun, don’t get too mad, I love you. I would miss you if you were gone, don’t leave, don’t get hurt.’_

Maybe not quite all that, but the intent is there, he can feel it, he may be a romantic at heart but he makes the detour to the adult shop and gets the “good” goddamn fire-and-ice condoms, and few other surprises that might be nice to try out.

Maybe later.

After he’s tackled Wildcat and yelled at him and given him wet willies in each ear for all the damn embarrassment.

.

Vanoss doesn’t think he’s ever going to live down the time he showed up to a very important meeting in New York City and saw Wildcat’s distinct form of writing all along his clothing.

He was there to talk to an executive about launching a new product line all the way to Paris. And he was standing underneath the massive skyscrapers, just before the giant wall of glass from the building he was supposed to enter with all the world and the taxicab waiting just behind him.

When he reaches in his back pocket to get his wallet, and there, straight down the seam of his suit jacket are the words, “ _how many cocks do you think can fit in one hole?”_

He’s so mortified that he immediately takes the coat off before the taxi driver can notice and turns to walk into the building when he sees (and the receptionist inside and the driver just about to pull away, and several pedestrians walking by see too) what’s written across his chest.

Over each nipple like Vanoss is a walking advertisement, the letters large and impossible to miss.

 _“BUFF MOTHERFUCKER”_.

Then just beneath with little childish stars everywhere and arrows pointing down to his groin and up to his face the damning phrase, “ _gives good head. Inquire within.”_

The taxi driver nearly hits another car, he can’t stop staring and he’s reading the message twice, looking Vanoss over thoroughly and _thinking_ and the traffic is moving slowly again but there’s still almost an accident and everybody is honking at him he has to get to work but, _goddamn._

Is seconded by the receptionist as she watches Vanoss unbutton the shirt and quickly flip it around and put it back on inside out and _those are some nice abs, I swear to god_ , her face blushing up a storm as she ignores the phone ringing beside her to daydream and continue staring. He’s got to come inside after all.

But Vanoss can’t look the doorman in the eyes, he’s trying to be professional but his shirt is inside out and the letters are less legible backwards but they’re still there and he’s really thinking about just going home and trying again another day but this is a _really_ important meeting and he’s got to try, this could mean so much for all them.

(He’s going to kick Wildcat in the ass when he gets home, or do something to his ass at least, this is embarrassing to all hell.)

And it isn’t until he gets back to the hotel room and does a thorough examination of _all_ his clothes for more writing that he finds, in the lining of the suitcase, “ _So how’d it go? Did you flash your pecs and get us the gig?”_

He’s definitely going to kick Wildcat’s ass when he gets back.

(But yeah, they got the gig. The director he was supposed to meet was walking out of the elevator when he saw Vanoss take off his shirt and was so stunned by the site of a shirtless Vanoss that he didn’t move when doors closed and the elevator was called back up to the upper floors.

Several minutes later he was back on the ground floor and he apologized to Vanoss for staring and offered to lend him one of his shirts to wear. Definitely not for the ulterior motive of watching Vanoss take off his shirt again, of course not.)

.

 

Wildcat is fast with his needle and thread, and he’s taken to the habit of sticking things into his own clothes.

At first just because he’s so easily distracted in the mornings that he usually forgets _something_ by the time he’s walked out the front door, and that time he forgot the damn keys and had to wait hours for somebody to get home and let him back in, his shoes were inside too of all things, was where he had to draw the line.

He starts writing lists to himself, notes to remember. But there’s never any pens or pencils laying around, just eyeliner and lipstick and makeup and Cartoonz will have his _damn head_ if he touches that stuff again.

So he starts stitching things on the lining of his shirt. Reminders to walk the dogs, feed the cats. _Don’t forget your keys_ , and then when he does for the umpteenth time, he stitches a spare set against the inside of his pocket.

Wildcat sews needles in his shirt sleeves, loops thread around the cuffs and up the seams. 

He’s gotten into the habit of picking at the fabric and pulling strands out of whatever he’s wearing while he’s bored. Then sewing it back in again into whatever is laying around him.

Grocery lists for more apples and oranges into a blue jacket thrown over the back of the couch.

An argument with himself about just why _Runway_ isn’t all it could be into someone’s jeans. (” _No one could wear that much on their head and still walk around on stage on day. They’d die from the headaches!”_ )

Into the back of the seat while he’s stuck in traffic again and the taxicab has no where to go, they’ve been there for hours slowly inching along, he could run faster than this. (” _I bet Superman never gets stuck in traffic. Fucker gets to fly all over the place. Of course, just think about all the bugs he must eat everyday..”_ )

In the backstage of the show when he sees Delirious pace back and forth again outside the door to the waiting room, the guy is going all up and down the hallway and he must be hysterical with nerves.

“ _Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”_ As he’s fixing a split in the seam of the next set’s outfits. And then sews more into the lining, using colors that match almost perfectly to the original fabric.

(They should, he pulled the strands out of leftover pieces of cloth while he was bored, waiting for the show to start.)

Wildcat is rough around the edges and doesn’t say all that he feels with his voice.

Instead he sews it into words around the things he loves.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite his profession, he just really doesn’t do well with crowds, and all the noise and pressure from so many people at once everywhere all around him tends to send him into a panic and Delirious just _has to leave_ , has to get out go somewhere, _any_ where will do.

And he’s already walking behind the curtain and off the stage even though the next set is going to start _any minute now_ and he passes Vanoss, who is looking the other way and making a fuss about something or other and doesn’t see him at all.

Until Delirious is out the door and in the parking lot where Cartoonz is already sitting on his motorcycle, waiting for him. 

The spare helmet is resting on the back seat and Cartoonz revs the engine twice as Delirious climbs on.

The sudden roar cutting through the noise and the people to Vanoss standing just outside the curtain, watching the fabric raise up slowly and looking all around for somebody who’s not there anymore.

And, just like that, _he knows_. He knows that distinct rumble and purr and he’s heard it a thousand times before (and will a thousand times yet) and Vanoss is spinning around and running off the stage to the still open door.

That swings in the slight breeze of their passing as Delirious and Cartoonz peel out of the parking lot and onto the busy street, Vanoss’ desperate cries lost behind them.

And he’s left standing there, in the doorway, yelling “Delirious! Delirious get back here dammit! You still have three more sets to do! _Delirious!”_ Cupping his hands around his mouth to add volume but they’re already gone and there’s no hope of being heard by them. 

“The curtain’s already opening, Delirious! You get back here right now! Where the fuck are you going? _What am I supposed to do now_?!”

.

And Delirious is sitting in the back of the nearby Starbucks, nursing a coffee and waiting for Cartoonz to return to the table with the donuts when Vanoss starts texting him.

(Or rather he was being texted all this time, but had ignored the constant buzzing coming from his pants pocket until the vibrations calmed down a little.)

Something sweet would do well to calm his nerves right now. Because his heart is still beating just a little too fast, and the press of foreign bodies shoving past him in the cramped corridor just behind the runway curtain is a itch his body is not yet ready to forget.

But it is calming, here by the window, with the sounds of the city softened at his side, and he feels a certain sense of detachment reading through Vanoss’ panic and worry.

He should probably feel a little more guilt than he actually does but..

 _“I’m sorry.”_ He sends back, late. _“There were too many people.”_ His heart beating just a tad too strong inside his chest. _  
_

And Cartoonz is pulling out a chair beside him, setting down the delicious precious donuts on the table and being rather awfully quiet and calm as Delirious holds the phone and tries not to let his hands tremble.

They look a tad out of place. Cartoonz in his coffee-stained skull covered shirt, leaning as far back as his chair will go. And Delirious with his blue eyeshadow stripped across his face like war paint, still wearing the large overcoat of feathers from the runway.

 _“Are you alright?”_ Pops up on the screen a minute later. 

Delirious lets out a soft breath, and finally remembers to relax. Vanoss isn’t mad after all. Everything’s okay.

 _“Everything’s fine.”_ He sends back. “ _I’m sorry. We’ll come back in a few minutes. We’re at the Starbucks down the road.”_

 _“Alright.”_ Vanoss replies after a minute. “ _Just be safe. And call me when you guys leave.”_

Delirious is smiling softly down at the gentle light of the phone when Cartoonz asks, “So he didn’t freak out?” Kicking his legs up onto the table beside them and finally grabbing a donut.

“No,” Delirious looks up, grinning. “He had a panic attack and tried to call the police. But his phone didn’t have a signal and when he finally got one, Wildcat managed to talk some sense into him.”

Cartoonz laughs.

.

When he gets back to the show, Delirious can tell in an instant how worried Wildcat was, because his next outfit is twice as lacy as it was before.

(In fact, they _all_ are twice as lacy, and everyone knows that when Wildcat gets worried, he starts on with the lace.)

Delirious laughs and goes to give Wildcat a bear hug but the man is hiding behind some embroidery and pretending to be deeply engrossed in stitching a pig on a motorcycle onto an otherwise serene nature scene.

He hugs him anyways, slipping under his arms (Wildcat reluctantly lifts the embroidery and lets him in) and getting good and close.

Wildcat sighs, and blows some of Delirious’ hair out of his mouth. “You really worried him this time,” he admits. “He was halfway down the street chasing you guys by the time I caught up to him.”

“I’m sorry,” is muffled by Wildcat’s chest. “You forgive me?”

The man grins and shakes his head. “Nothing to forgive.” And pats Delirious on the head. Hand resting in his hair as Delirious looks up, all bright shiny eyes and love.

“I forgive you,” Delirious says. “For all the lace.”

And Wildcat laughs, taken by surprise.

.

Cartoonz drives him back home after the show. Wildcat has a few more designs to tweak before he can go, and Vanoss isn’t finished talking to all the important big-wig people yet.

Delirious loves riding on the back of Cartoonz’ motorcycle. Even in the midst of all the heavy city traffic.

Because it is sort of freeing, being so loose and open in the world. The wind blowing across him, sunlight on his back. Nothing between him and the sky.

He holds tight to Cartoonz, even though they’re stopped in traffic again and waiting for the light to change. One hand softly touching his own, where it rests against Cartoonz’ chest, and their fingers entwine.

“You worry too much,” Cartoonz says. “About what people think.” And sends a gentle smile over his shoulder to Delirious. 

And the day is warm, and they’ve got all the time in the world to get back home, so Delirious just grins and leans closer, hugging tighter. He’s at peace right now, and happy.

.


End file.
